


Welcome to Muskrat Farm

by VictoriaLucas0417



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Brutal Murder, Episode: s03e07 Digestivo, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Infant Death, M/M, Missing Scene, Revenge, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Stillbirth, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaLucas0417/pseuds/VictoriaLucas0417
Summary: This one shot is a missing scene fic to show the massacre at Muskrat Farm that we only get to hear about in the series. Hannibal gets to have some fun while saving Will in the process.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Welcome to Muskrat Farm

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you for clicking on this fic. I hope you like it. Please note there is some graphic depictions of death and violence as well as mentions of Margot's stillborn. If this is a sensitive topic for you, please do not read. I do not want to upset anyone accidentally or otherwise. Thank you again. Happy reading!

Welcome to Muskrat Farm

Alana’s image of Will in her head was closer to one of the strays in his pack than to the man they both knew. Will was not a delicate flower. He could take care of himself. It was not Hannibal he needed to be saved from. Hannibal fights back a scoff as she says this. The darkness deep within frightened Will because of its power. Hannibal did not shy away from power, and he would help Will bask in the light of it rather than slink in the shadows of the in-between, denying himself the satisfaction of true self realization. However, it was not worth arguing the point with Alana if she was going to give him what he wants any way.

When Alana and Margot leave the barn, scurrying to the main house in search of the surrogate, Hannibal allows himself a full body stretch. He has been in this pen for hours with his arms pulled behind his back and tied at an upwards angle with his knees bent and his ankles tied together. Standing upright has never felt so good. He rolls his shoulders forward and takes a deep breath, tensing his jaw. He has work to do.

He opens the gate and walks towards the guard Alana tranquilized. No time for real fun, only for the most basic of hunts. Hannibal removes the clothes from the man, looking them over fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Polyester. Lovely. He puts them on. They aren’t a perfect fit, but there is no way he will make it through this night without sustaining some injuries and any kind of protection is better than nothing. He takes the pocket knife Alana gave him and runs the blade across the guard’s throat making sure to sever the artery. He allows himself a moment to feel the blood run through his fingers before grabbing a hammer that is propped against a beam in the barn.

He exits the main area of the barn with the separated pens. He sees two more guards. The men have automatic weapons and are looking in the other direction, towards the main house. They are so sure that their counterpart has Hannibal under control. He sneaks up behind the man on the left and slides the now blood soaked blade across the man’s throat. He lets out a gurgled scream. The other guard only has enough time to shift his body towards the sound before Hannibal throws the hammer at the man’s leg, knocking him to the ground with a sickening crunch. The gun slips out of the man’s hand. “Buonasera,” Hannibal says as he walks towards the guard and kicks the gun out of reach. Hannibal could grab it, but he has never liked guns. They lack the intimacy of knives or hands. The guard starts to gather his senses and uses the beam behind him to get to his feet, still unsteady.

“Buonasera, Dottore.” The guard reaches into his coat and grabs his knife. Hannibal feels the muscles in his body coil. Ready for the fight. The guard lunges towards him, thrusting the blade towards his abdomen, but the man still has not regained his balance and swings too wide. Hannibal cuts into the man’s extended arm with his own knife. The guard recoils, backs away, and starts to circle. Hannibal knows the others will be coming, best to get this over with. He closes the distance between himself and the guard, sidestepping to stand behind him. He wraps his arms around his neck and twists, satisfied by the loud crack the bones make and thump of the man’s body hitting the straw covered ground. He steps over the body, picks up the hammer, and continues on.

He was right. More guards are running towards the barn. He steals into the shadows. They have him beat in sheer numbers. Better to pick them off a few at a time. When the first two enter the barn, they split up. Hannibal swings the hammer and catches the first man in the face. Blood splatters on the wall and across Hannibal. He swings the hammer again, this time embedding it in the man’s skull. He puts his foot on the man’s chest for leverage to remove the hammer. The second guard is now behind him. He feels a slice to his right side, enough to draw blood. He swings the hammer again and misses. The guard punches him in the stomach and moves towards him as Hannibal falls to the ground. The guard rolls Hannibal over to face him and straddles his hips, punching him in the face. Hannibal struggles for a moment to reach his knife then stabs the blade into the guard and ripping into his abdomen, like he had done to Will previously, but not taking the same care to miss all the vital bits. He feels the man’s blood and intestines spill onto him as the man goes limp. Hannibal tosses him to the side and gets up. Bringing the knife and hammer with him.

He steps out into the cold night, covered in blood, and looks towards the main house. There is an eerie calm about the big house on the hill. The lights are on in every windowed room. He is reminded of the time Will told him he would do the same to his little house in Wolf Trap when he would go on walks with his dogs at night. Looking back at the house from far away, like a beacon in the storm would make him feel safe. Hannibal feels his body tighten again before stretching his neck and walking towards the house. There would be no peace tonight. At least not for the occupants of Muskrat Farm.

He hears a branch break behind him and then a silenced gunshot. He ducks into the snow and hears someone to his left hit the ground. He follows the path of the bullet and sees Chiyoh in the tree. Ridding the rifle of the empty casing and loading another bullet. He smiles at the woman who is closer to him than almost anyone in the world. Almost. Their reunion will have to wait. He points towards the house as if to let he know he has unfinished business. She nods and settles into her perch, eyes scanning the grounds for more of Mason’s men.

Hannibal lets himself in through the front door, coming across a few more guards, dispatching of them quickly. A few well placed leg sweeps and hammer strikes and he is free to find the room Cordell uses for his surgeries, leaving a trail of blood and brain matter from his hammer and blade.

When he enters the room, Cordell has already put Mason to sleep. Pity. Hannibal would have loved to make him watch this next part. Cordell is looming over Will, the scalpel in his hand already inside the skin of Will’s face. The heart monitor shows Will is in distress. His eyes are open, but he is not moving. Hannibal pads quietly across the room. He wraps an arm around Cordell’s body to suppress the jarring motion caused as Hannibal brings the hammer down onto the weak spot in Cordell’s neck. Fragments of bone burrow into his spinal cord paralyzing him from the neck down. His body goes limp in Hannibal’s embrace and he loosens his grip on the man. As Cordell falls, Hannibal grabs the scalpel that is still in Will’s face to mitigate any damage.

He removes the scalpel and places it back on the tray and stops the bleeding. How many times has he had Will’s blood on his hands either to help or to hurt? He has lost count. Hannibal looks into Will’s eyes and, though they are open, he can tell Will is not fully conscious. He may not even know Hannibal is there. “I think poor Will has suffered enough. Don’t you think?” Hannibal injects the same medication Cordell gave to Mason, resting his hand on Will’s cheek until his lids flutter closed. His hand lingers until Will’s breathing steadies and deepens.

“I haven’t forgotten about you. Where were we?” He lifts Cordell into another chair, disregarding the straps. Cordell watches Hannibal as he takes the marker from the tray and draws the dotted line around Cordell’s face.

The man does not beg, whine, or even whimper; Hannibal admires this. There is no furrow to his brow. No tightening at the corners of his eyes or mouth. He looks like he is meditating. His eyes focused on something far away.

“Well if this is to be my end, at least it is to a worthy foe,” Cordell says.

“In another life, Cordell, it would have been a pleasure to prepare a meal with you, but in this one, I will enjoy this.” Hannibal inserts the blade of the scalpel underneath Cordell’s mandible and slides it upwards, tracing the dotted line, and slowly removing the skin. Cordell’s jaw tightens in an attempt to move with the scalpel to prolong the moment before the skin is carved away from the flesh beneath. The attempt is in vain and only causes a tautness in the muscles that Hannibal uses to peel the skin from the underlying muscles faster. He watches as the removed skin reveals the striations of the muscles straining leading from his neck and ending in the area around his teeth.

Once the skin is removed, Hannibal studies the face on the surgical tray, adjusts it. “Since you have given so much thought to my end, I should ask how you want to meet yours,” He turns back to Cordell and meets his wide eyes. “I could give you an excess of morphine. You would drift off to sleep. Some find peace in that.”

“Peace? Peace has a different meaning for people like us. I have no desire to drift away into nothingness.” The hard consonant sounds in his words are missing as are his lips. 

“How do you feel about, as they say, by the sword?” Hannibal raises the blood covered scalpel so Cordell can see the blade.

Cordell closes his eyes and the now visible muscle fibers near his chin and around his teeth constrict causing more blood to trickle from the tissue as he mulls it over. He opens his eyes and when he answers, the sound is no more than a sigh. “Yes.”

As soon as the breath used to make the word enters the air, Hannibal brings the scalpel around Cordell’s throat, severing the arteries on both sides. He closes Cordell’s eyes with his fingertips. 

He moves back to Will, unstrapping him from the table and looking him over, making sure there were no other wounds that need attending to. He hears hurried footsteps, but can tell they are those of Alana and Margot. None of Mason’s guards would be wearing heels. He does not look up to greet them and continues nursing Will.

“You were right,” Margot says. Her voice hitching and breaking, the telltale sign of tears. When he looks up, she is holding a baby swaddled in bloody towels. It is not moving, though she holds him close to her chest. Mascara tracing spider web like tracks down her face. “He will always deny me.”

Alana is standing next to Margot. Her mouth hanging open in horror and her arms are half extended towards her partner. After a moment, she drops her arms and turns towards Hannibal. “He implanted the baby inside of a pig. She was dead when we found her. By the time we cut the baby out, he had suffocated.”

Hannibal can see the dark brown curls matted to the baby’s head. Will’s curls. Hannibal ran his fingers through Will’s hair to remind himself that Will was alive, safe, and with him. “My advice to you is the same, Margot. You must take what you want. Mason will not give it to you. He has proven that time and again.”

“But how?” Margot asks, eyes on her son’s face.

“Dear Margot, you have grown up in stockyards and slaughterhouses your entire life. How did your family breed cows? I am sure there is a cattle prod around here somewhere, knowing Mason. If not here specifically, in the barn. Stimulate his prostate. I am sure you two can figure out the rest.”

“What are you going to do?” Alana asks, the horrified expression on her face giving way to determination.

“Save Will. It is not safe for him if we were to linger.” Hannibal removes the IV in Will’s arm and the pads from the heart monitor.

Margot strokes the baby’s cheek and looks over to Alana, “I want to bury him.” Alana nods.

“Mason’s IV is set to a sedative. When you are ready to wake him, slide this control to the off position, or simply pull the needle out. I will leave the finer details to you.” Hannibal finds Will’s shirt and puts it on him along with his socks and shoes. “I wish you two luck. Until we meet again.” He says the last part directly to Alana who shivers slightly before she wraps her arm around Margot and leads her out of the room.

Hannibal places an arm under Will’s neck and the other under his knees and lifts him up. He makes his way out of the house and onto the grounds. Even though his progress is slow, he does not mind. Feeling Will’s warm weight is a reminder that they are both alive and together in this moment. They can figure out the rest later. Hannibal hears movement behind him, but this time, does not turn. Chiyoh takes out the two men within seconds and he continues walking towards her.

Chiyoh scans the grounds one more time, and satisfied they are not in immediate danger, climbs down the tree to meet Hannibal. She leads him to the vehicle she has stashed near the road.

Hannibal gently places Will in the backseat of the sedan. Taking a moment to memorize his face relaxed in sleep. “Where do you want to take him?” Chiyoh asks walking towards the driver’s side door.

“Wolf Trap, Virginia,” Hannibal says, getting into the car and fastening his seatbelt.

“What is in Wolf Trap?” Chiyoh asks turning her head to face Hannibal with her eyebrow raised.

Hannibal leans his head back on the rest and closes his eyes. “Home.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please feel free to leave me a comment/ review. I appreciate it all.


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